Verdict
by SensiblyScrewy
Summary: He guessed that 50 percent of the city hoped for the 'big joint', 20 percent knew better, and the other 30 percent was busy getting ready for his Welcome Back party. Rated T for Timid Rater.


_A/N: It's not my best work. But there are certain parts that I enjoy quite a bit. The inspiration came from a daydream in the middle of AP Bio. Voila._

**_I Disclaim._**

* * *

It wasn't like he _desired_ to be on the jury. They had even gone and made him the foreman. Were they _trying_ to get him killed? Sure, he wanted to see the maniac behind bars as much as the next guy. But did _he_ really have to be the one to give the verdict? What was so great about him? He was just a real estate agent. Barely sold three, four houses a year. Besides, everyone already knew what the outcome would be, anyways. Not even the Joker could find a big enough foothold for anything less than Arkham. Not that that was a great consequence in itself. He guessed that 50 percent of the city hoped for the 'big joint', 20 percent knew better, and the other 30 percent was busy getting ready for his Welcome Back party.

And it wasn't just that. If he'd had the security in his mind that, after the trial, no one would come after him, that he would be forgotten, well, he might be more inclined to perform this civic duty. But he didn't even have that. The day that he'd been contacted, Jonas' heart had nearly stopped. In fact, it probably did stop and then had started up again, as if to practice for the real thing. There was no way he could say yes on his phone (lately every time he had a conversation on it, there was always a double click before he hung up- if the cops weren't tapping his phone, _some_ certain crime-fighter was). He'd had no choice but to say no. The dial tone afterwards had been particularly unnerving.

The judge called for their verdict. Sweaty hands shaking, Jonas stood up. He cleared his throat. Making sure not to even glance at the Defendant's table, but still unable to shake the feeling of black eyes boring holes into him, he opened his dry mouth. "We find the Defendant not guilty by reasons of insanity." It was both a win and a loss. Satisfying, yet not enough so, he knew, for the good people of Gotham. The bad wouldn't really mind.

Then during all the gasps and yells and protestations around the courtroom, he felt his eyes pulled away from the judge. As if by magnets, the Defendant's table dragged Jonas' attention to it. Mainly to the daunting presence sitting as calmly as a sleeping hyena. Yes, definitely hyena. A shudder ran up his sides. The Joker stared at him blankly. There wasn't a wince to the roaring of the crowds and flashing of the cameras around him. Just blank, dark eyes.

Wait.

Was he smiling?

The shiver came again and left his body vibrating.

The Joker raised his hand, slowly bringing it up to his eye. He had his pointing finger and his thumb extended. Like a gun. And like a gun, he cocked it and then jerked it back as if firing. Right at Jonas. He couldn't hold back his flinch. Immediately after, the high pitched giggling that had haunted the news for weeks echoed around the large courtroom. Everyone else became silent; all the news reporters stopped yelling questions and all the people, good and bad, who had come to see the trial, stopped talking. They stared at the Joker and the Joker stared at Jonas, bouncing in his seat.

The laughter didn't stop until he had been taken from the room.

Someone in the back of the court said something in the heart pounding silence. It made Jonas' knees buckle.

"He's a dead man."

* * *

The next day the news announced that a real estate agent with the name of Jonas Booker and, though unconfirmed by the police, possible member of the jury during the Joker's trial, had been found dead in his home. His body had been stuffed, literally, with what appeared to be joker cards from various decks. The estimation of his death was placed at two hours after the trial.

In other news, the Joker will be moved to Arkham Asylum this morning.

* * *

_A/N: Feedback is better than chocolate covered raisins. You know you like them. Stop lying to yourself._

_~screwy_


End file.
